


Hard Pressed

by pandacowhipster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Voyeurism, mentions of bottom!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandacowhipster/pseuds/pandacowhipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek maintains this wouldn't be an issue if Stiles would just learn to knock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Pressed

The first time could be considered an accident, but Derek prefers to think of it as being entirely Stiles’ fault.

The thing is, Derek hasn’t gotten off in over two weeks. There was a whole thing with a troll that had him and the rest of the pack too stressed out to focus on anything but running and not dying. They finally killed the damn thing a few days ago and Derek’s been sleeping it off contentedly, but he’s starting to get an itch under his skin and he’s just really glad the pack’s celebrating by seeing some movie he doesn’t give a shit about.

Erica’s sitting across from him, talking excitedly about the whole thing, apparently she’s been tracking the progress of this movie online since they first announced it was being written. She’s ridiculously excited and he feels bad about wanting her to just get out already. He scolds himself and tries to listen to her talking about the benefits of prosthetic make up versus CGI with more interest.

He smiles when she practically jumps out her chair when a horn blows outside.

“Bye, Derek,” she grabs her purse and kisses his cheek, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“Great, because even though I declined the invitation to go, I definitely want to hear about in painstaking geek detail.”

“Jackass,” Erica calls as she rushes out the door.

He heads upstairs after hears them pull off. It’s a nice house, big and suburban, Derek likes the background noise having neighbors gives, much better than the stillness of the woods that always put him on edge. Not to mention people are a lot less likely to show up at your door with shotguns when you live near nosy little old ladies. He’s finally started to let himself unwind and relax now that the threats are minor and usually far between, he thinks he’s better for it.

He shuts his bedroom door behind him, grabs his laptop off his desk and flops down on his bed. He doesn’t have anything saved on it, his laptop is practically communal at this point and his pack is about as nosy as Mrs. Tanaka next door. He opens an incognito window in his browser and pulls up one of his preferred video sites.

He doesn’t watch too many with girls these days, but then he’s not much interested in girls these days either. To be honest he isn’t interested in anyone, he doesn’t think he can deal with letting someone new in, letting them get close to the pack. He knows the reason why he’s like this, but his issues are his issues and if he really needs it, he’ll deal with going out to a bar and charming his way into someone’s bed—or car or bathroom stall, he’s not picky.

He clicks a video with a slim pale guy and a more toned man with warm brown skin, he likes the look of them together.

He watches them move against each other with vague interest, he has the video on mostly to give him something to look at. He pulls off his sweats and gets a hand around himself, when he looks back to the video, the thin guy is going down on the other. He gets more attentive when the guy’s head dips lower and he starts rimming him. He’s never done it himself, but he thinks he might like to—in theory at least.

He speeds up the pace of his hand, less focused on the video and more on the idea of someone opening him up with their mouth. He reaches a second hand down to palm at his balls and closes his eyes, he knows he’s getting close, just a few more strokes and a swipe of his thumb against his head.

Stiles opens the door to his bedroom right as Derek comes all over himself.

“Shit, fuck, sorry, oh my God. I don’t—sorry, sorry.” Stiles has his hands clamped over his eyes and is getting progressively redder. “Dude, oh God, I just—I was coming by to get my books from Erica’s room and I heard noise coming from in here and I—I didn’t know it was that kind of noise, I didn’t even know you—why didn’t you lock your door?”

“Why didn’t you _knock_?” Derek demands, wrapping himself in his comforter.

“You usually hear me coming! Oh God, bad choice of words.”

“Well I wasn’t exactly listening.”

“Clearly!”

Derek huffs, “Stiles, just get the fuck out.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Stiles turns and bolts out of the room.

Derek flops backward on his bed and sighs, he waits until he hears Stiles slam the door shut before he gets up and cleans himself off. He can’t help the tug in his chest, he remembers plenty of times Laura barged in his room, headphones in and blasting, only to run out screaming when they were teenagers. It was mortifying then and it’s mortifying now, even though he’s in a different house full to bursting with an obnoxious pack.

Much like Laura, Stiles avoids him as much as possible afterward. He finally comes over when Scott ropes him into one of their pack bonding nights.

He and Stiles have actually been getting along much better lately, so when Stiles isn’t hovering over Derek shoulder, criticizing his burger grilling technique like he usually would, everyone seems to pick up on it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Boyd asks, coming over to put a plate of buns on the table next to the grill.

“I thought you were the quiet one, shut up.”

Boyd snorts, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He shoves his shoulder against Derek’s, “seriously, boss, you good?”

Derek sighs, “I’m fine. Nothing happened, stop worrying.”

Just as Boyd is starting to look pacified, Stiles comes over and ruins it.

“Okay so Erica made me come over here because ‘I’m acting like a little vag rag’ so, uh, we can totally pretend that thing that happened, didn’t happen. I mean, we can pretend I didn’t see it happen, or, just whatever.”

Derek’s pretty sure if Stiles got any redder his extremities would suffer major blood loss.

Boyd crosses his arms, “I thought nothing happened?”

Stiles nods, “exactly, nothing happened. Boyd knows what’s up.”

Derek shrugs, “it’s fine, Stiles.” He looks at Boyd, “like I said.”

\--

The second time is because Derek is bored.

It’s later into the evening and he’s fresh out the shower, towel still wrapped around his waist and he’s not thinking about anything in particular while he strips and changes the sheets on his bed but either his run earlier or the hot water in shower must have worked him up because he’s half hard under his excessively fluffy white towel. It’s nowhere near the point where he needs to take care of it right away so he finishes his bed and lays down with his laptop. He bypasses any porn sites and opens Netflix, he figures he can catch up on that detective show he likes since he has the night free.

The pack’s all downstairs watching TV and they rarely come bother him, knowing he’ll join them on his own if he feels the need. He presses play and undoes his towel.

His strokes are slow and lazy, he’s not desperate to come and he’s too involved in the plot of his show to keep a steady rhythm. He slides back his foreskin to rub at his slit and has to close his eyes for a second. He’s fully hard by now and losing the flow of the plot—he’s pretty sure the janitor did it anyway—he speeds up the hand on his dick while the other slips between his legs to massage the skin behind his balls.

He’s close so of course that’s when his door opens.

“Holy shit, sorry—” Stiles starts to back out the room but stops, brow furrowing, “wait, what the fuck are you even doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” Derek responds sitting up and quickly throwing the towel back over his lap.

“It looks like you’re getting off to procedural cop shows,” Stiles says gesturing to the laptop as Derek pauses the episode, “which, gotta say I seriously misjudged your position on the ‘weird as hell’ scale. Seriously, I thought leather fetish at most, I don’t even know what this is called.”

“I’m not getting off to it, I’m just getting off and watching it at the same time,” Derek huffs.

“You’re _multitasking_? Jesus Christ, you are the only person who’d treat jerking off as a chore.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “it’s not a chore, I was bored.”

Stiles eyebrows raise practically to his hairline, “you know I always used to say ‘I wish we knew more about Derek’. Never thought the answer would be ‘he’s just like you! He has Netflix marathons and jerks off when he has nothing better to do’. Kinda missing the days when I thought you just ate rabbits in the pale moonlight.”

“Why are you even in here?”

“What?” Stiles blinks like he just realized the absurdity of this conversation, “we were—movie. Everybody’s watching a movie downstairs and we wanted to know if you were interested. _Clearly_ you’re busy.”

Derek sighs, because it’s not like things can get any weirder, “what movie?”

“Seriously? Some subbed kung fu thing, it’s Boyd’s night to pick.”

“Fine, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I should, uh,  let you get to that then,” Stiles says, his eyes dropping to Derek’s lap where he’s still tenting the towel and lingering for what Derek feels is an inappropriate amount of time.

“Yep.”

“Okay I’ll just—yeah,” Stiles backs out the door slowly, “and wash your hands!” he orders before shutting it back.

Derek looks down at his hands, they smell like pre-come and his body wash. He yanks the towel off his dick and finishes himself off, adamantly not thinking about how Stiles walking in on him did nothing to flag his erection.

When he gets downstairs half the pack is giving him knowing  looks while the other half resolutely avoids eye contact. He rolls his eyes and sits on the couch, it’s not like he’s done worse than the weird shit Boyd and Erica get up to.

\--

The third time Derek is asleep.

Well, partially asleep, he’s slowly coming into consciousness and he can feel the throb of his pulse between his legs. He rolls over to rub against the bed to alleviate the pressure. He sighs into his pillow as his dick is met with the rich softness of his sheets.

He picked the eastern facing bedroom when they got the house, he likes the way the sunlight bathes everything a warm yellow in the mornings like it is now.

As he starts to wake up fully, he drags his hand down the mattress and reaches underneath himself to squeeze the base of his cock. He can’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, or if he’d dreamt at all, but it has him practically aching with the need to come.

There’s a quick rap at his door before he hears it open and he lets out a groan that’s half pleasure, half annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, “you need your beauty sleep. You can sleep in the car, it’s family vacation time. Get your wolfy ass up.” The pack has been planning a day trip to the coast for a month, there’s no way any of them would have forgotten, so Stiles must be here just to annoy him.

“Oh, I’m up,” he says, knowing Stiles won’t appreciate the pun.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like you’re still rolling around in bed.”

Derek sighs and briefly tightens his grip on his dick, “there’s someone in both bathrooms, I can hear the water running. When they’re out, I’ll go shower and get dressed. Until then, Stiles, I’d really like to finish jerking off. So, unless you wanna watch, would you mind getting the hell out of my room?”

Stiles immediately covers his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see but Derek’s black duvet. He turns on his heel before heading out the room as fast as possible. It’s maybe two seconds before he opens the door again.

“Oh, you’re  ‘up’. That’s real cute, asshole,” he says before slamming the door back.

Derek chuckles and turns over onto his back, he pushes the duvet off and spreads his legs. He does his best not to think of anything in particular, just the feel of his own hand sliding back and forth, because he’s worried if he tries to picture something he’ll only be able to think of the way Stiles looked at Derek’s lap just a little too long the last time he walked in on him.

And of course trying not to think about only makes him focus on it more, so he finally gives in, imagines his cock’s leaking into Stiles’ fist instead of his own. He comes hard with a choked off noise and just lies there for a minute, ignoring the implications of picturing Stiles while he gets off.

\--

The fourth time is outside.

Derek was never supposed to be the alpha, that was always supposed to fall to Laura or one of his cousins, but he’s more or less used to it by now. It took him a while to manage a full alpha shift though, he’s pretty much got it down but there are a few side effects he hasn’t mastered repressing. Mainly, that when he shifts back to human there’s a bit of bleed over from the wolf that makes it hard to focus on anything but fighting, fucking or eating.

The betas seem to get it, after training they always give him time to go out of hearing range and handle things if he’s done a full shift. Then they usually stop for food after, since they all get the hunger part of it.

Today’s practice was rougher than usual, with the full moon so close, so Derek’s more on edge than usual. Once he’s a suitable distance away, he shoves his jeans and briefs down, pulling the elastic of his waistband down behind his balls so he can tug them to take some of the edge off. He braces himself against a tree and rubs his thumb against his foreskin before pulling it back. He licks at his palm to ease his strokes, jacking himself hard and fast. He feels fangs poking against his lips and is using all his meager focus to keep his claws in when he hears familiar footsteps tromping closer through the woods.

He presses his forehead against the tree and bites back a growl, “fucking what, Stiles?”

“Jesus, I was just coming to see if you were done, everybody else took off, you’re my ride.”

Derek huffs out a breath and tries to ease his annoyance, “does it look like I’m done?”

“I don’t know, how long does it take you piss?”

“Not pissing.”

“What? They said you were ‘marking you territory’ how else—goddamnit! I swear to God, Derek, you jerk off more than I do.”

Derek thumps his head against the trunk of the tree, “doubtful. You just seem to have a sixth sense for whenever my hand’s on my dick.” He strokes himself once for good measure.

“Are you really—I’m standing right here.”

“Considering how often that happens while I’m trying to get off, I’ve decided to not let it bother me,” Derek says, starting to thrust into his fist, “now shut up or—fuck—or go wait by the car.”

It takes a minute before he hears Stiles walk away, steps slow enough that Derek knows he was considering just shutting his mouth and watching.

The thought’s enough to make Derek’s balls tighten and send him spilling onto the tree. He wipes his hand off on his jeans and watches his come drip down the tree bark for a moment before tucking himself back into his pants.

When he gets back to the car, Stiles silently offers him a bottle of hand sanitizer and they don’t speak the entire way to the diner the pack’s meeting up at. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though, so Derek isn’t bothered.

When they get to the diner Stiles smacks Scott upside the head and glares at the rest of the pack, “you guys are shitheads,” is all he says before dropping into a seat between Derek and Isaac.

When they all laugh, Derek finds himself joining in.

\--

The fifth time, Stiles stays.

Derek’s watching porn again. It’s one of the rare times he finds himself watching girls, he usually avoids lesbian porn, but occasionally he’ll come across some made for actual lesbians and watch.

He’s at his desk, in just his sweats after a run and not touching himself yet. He watches the women run their hands along each other’s curves and he can appreciate the aesthetics of it, but he still finds his tastes leaning toward more muscles and sharp angles.

The blonde one has a tongue ring and she teases the piercing along the other’s torso and she licks her way down to her lap.

Derek slips his hand beneath his sweatpants and slowly starts beating off as the blonde starts to eat the other girl out with enthusiasm that clearly isn’t forced. He can relate—he really gets off on watching someone else get off and enjoy themself.

At this point he’s not even surprised when his door creaks open and he catches Stiles’ familiar scent. He doesn’t bother stopping or even turning around this time, just keeps watching the two girls moaning on his laptop screen.

He hears Stiles mutter a quiet ‘fuck’ before he steps into the room and closes the door behind him.

Derek suppresses a smile as he pulls his sweats down to his thighs, exposing his cock. He reaches over to the bottle of lotion on the corner of his desk and squirts some into his palm. He slicks up his dick and goes back to working himself over.

He closes his eyes and listens, more focused on the way Stiles is panting behind him than the girls now. He pushes his chair back some, knowing Stiles is looking, so he might as well make it worth watching. Derek’s breathing gets heavier as he cants his hips up into his hand, occasionally swiping his thumb along the head of his cock.

He hears Stiles hiss when a bead of pre-come drips over Derek’s knuckles and he smears it in with the lotion. He swallows thickly and speeds up his strokes.

He ends up coming the same time as the girl in the video, shuddering through it and moaning almost as obscenely as  she does. When he has his senses back about him, he reaches for the box of tissues strategically placed next to the lotion and cleans himself off.

He pulls his sweats back on spins the chair to face Stiles, he nearly chokes when he sees him. Stiles’ face is flushed and his lips are parted and shiny with spit, he’s obviously hard, his dick pressing against the front of his shorts. His hand’s still gripping the doorknob with white knuckles.

“I just… I wanted to borrow your hand-mixer, I swear to god.”

Derek nods dumbly, eyes still on Stiles’ crotch, “It’s uh—pantry. It’s in the pantry, by the blender I think.”

Stiles nods back and opens the door, “then I’m just gonna go use your bathroom and get the mixer and leave. Okay?”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t matter that Stiles turns the shower on while he’s in there, Derek still hears him swear when he comes.

\--

The first time Stiles helps him out, Derek is fucking wrecked.

It’s the first real shit storm of an incident they’ve had in nearly a year, a coven of witches raised some golems in an attempt to take the pack’s territory. They’ve been through worse, but it was a vicious fight and they’re all still licking their wounds a bit.

Derek collapses on his bed after eating his weight in take-out and does his best to ignore the building pressure between his legs, the carry-over from shifting. He’s too tired to move, let alone touch himself.

There’s a quick knock before Stiles is opening his door. “Oh,” he says, eyes drifting toward the bulge in Derek’s jeans, “are you uh—”

“Hell no,” Derek grunts, “I’m exhausted.”

Stiles lick his lips, “you, uh, you want help?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “with my dick?”

Stiles shrugs, “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Get in here,” Derek sighs, tired of acting like he and Stiles don’t want each other.

Stiles lights up, “awesome, just give me a sec, ‘kay?” He bolts out of room, not bothering to close the door. It doesn’t matter because he’s back a minute later holding a package of baby wipes and a bottle Derek can’t read the label on, but it smells like Erica.

Stiles kick the door shut behind him and sets the wipes and bottle on Derek’s nightstand. “Okay, I’m all over this, big guy, so you just lie back and think of Beacon Hills.”

Derek snorts at that, but Stiles doesn’t pay any attention as he reaches down to untie Derek’s boots. After he pulls them and Derek’s socks off, he strips Derek of the rest of his clothes, coaxing him to sit up so he can get his shirt off. He pulls off Derek’s jeans and his eyelashes flutter as he looks at Derek’s cock.

“That’s um, wow. You’ve got a really nice dick—pretty, even. Just, uh, thought you should know.”

Derek laughs softly, “thanks, you actually gonna do anything with it?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “not yet, I’ve got more vision than that, babe.”

“Well, do something.”

Derek swears Stiles’ eyes fucking twinkle as he grabs the bottle from the nightstand, “as you wish.”

He flicks open the cap and pours what looks like oil into his hands before rubbing it into Derek’s stomach, kneading the muscles as he goes. He circles his thumbs against Derek’s hips and tilts his head, “hey, can I uh,” he nods his head towards Derek’s lap.

“Yeah,” Derek says, dick twitching at the thought of Stiles’ mouth on him.

Stiles shakes his head, “no, I mean, I have no problem blowing you, or whatever… I was just kinda wondering if I could maybe eat you out?”

Derek blinks rapidly as he tries to remember how to make his mouth work, when it doesn’t come to him he just nods vigorously.

Stiles smiles like Derek told him they’re going for ice cream, “sweet, I’m just gonna do your back first, all right?”

Derek just rolls over obediently and raises his hips up so Stiles can slide a pillow under him.

“I stole this from Erica,” Stiles says as he straddles Derek, “she swears by this shit, it’s one of those two-in-one massage oil lube things,” he squeezes some out on to Derek’s back and spreads it around as he digs his long fingers into Derek’s muscles, working out the knots there.

“It smells like honey,” Derek says, “why are you still wearing clothes?”

Stiles bends to press a kiss to the top of Derek’s spine, “because I’m taking care of you. Besides, we need to keep my dick under wraps right now, lest things get out of hand. I’d like you to not be tired out of your mind when we fuck, I need you to hold me up against the wall.”

Derek groans.

Stiles just laughs at him and digs his fingers in deeper, “or maybe I should ride you. You could ride me, too. You switch pitch? You look like you switch pitch, like you like getting pinned down every once in a while, I could totally do that.”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” Derek pants, “I’ll do whatever you want, just shut up about it if you’re not going to do anything.”

Stiles pets his arms, “fine, fine, I’ll do something.” He gets off Derek’s back and grabs the baby wipes. “I’m just gonna wipe you down first, hygiene and all that.”

“Stiles, stop telling me what you’re going to do, and just do it.”

“Bossy motherfucker,” Stiles grumbles but stops talking as he preps Derek with painstaking precision. He plants a kiss on Derek’s tailbone before nudging his legs apart and moving lower. He swipes his tongue against Derek’s ass once and them blows on the wet skin because he’s a fucking tease. Stiles presses his mouth back against him and drags his tongue along Derek’s rim.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles whispers against him, like he’s the one getting wrecked. Derek has to bury his face in his pillow when Stiles presses deeper until he’s fucking Derek open with his tongue. The room is impossibly quiet save for Derek’s quick, shallow breaths and the messy, wet noises of Stiles’ mouth on his ass. He always thought, in the back of his mind, that Stiles would be fantastic at going down on people—with a mouth like that he just had to be—and of course Stiles being Stiles, is exceeding his expectations and then some. His tongue keeps curving up inside Derek and his mouth is so fucking wet, he can feel saliva sliding down behind his balls.

Stiles pulls away, catching his breath, “You think you can manage getting up on your knees? You can keep your head down if you want.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, Stiles helping him get his hips in the air.

“Perfect,” Stiles says, stroking a hand down Derek’s thigh, “seriously, you’re perfect. Would but I could eat your ass forever, dude.”

Derek doesn’t quite manage to stifle a whimper when Stiles gets his mouth on one of Derek’s balls and sucks. When Stiles finally wraps a hand around his aching cock, Derek has to hide his face in the crook of his arm.

Stiles goes back to rimming him, shoving his tongue into Derek in time with the pumps of his fist on Derek’s cock.

Derek’s trembling against him, but he manages to find his voice, “Stiles… Stiles, I’m close.”

“Awesome, on your back for me, big guy.” He guides Derek into turning over and goes back to jerking him off. “Thanks, dude, I wanted to see you.” Stiles reaches his other hand down to press against Derek’s ass, “this cool?”

Derek nods, voice gone again.

Stiles’ finger slips inside him easily and he only thrusts it in and out a few times before Derek’s back bows and he comes over Stiles’ hand.

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispers, “that was… whoa.” He grabs another wipe and cleans Derek’s come off his hand. He cleans Derek from his stomach to his ass with a severe amount of care before flopping down on his back beside him.

Derek looks to where Stiles is straining against his jeans, “do you want me to—”

“Give the most lethargic blow job ever? I’m good. I told you, it’s all about you right now.” He leans over to press a quick kiss to Derek’s cheek, “I totally encourage you to watch though, it’s only fair.”

Stiles pops open his jeans and hisses as he slides them off his hips. His dick is sticking out the top of his boxer briefs, stretching the elastic. It’s uncut and Derek can’t stop staring at it, despite the post-orgasm exhaustion threatening to take him over.

“Oh my God,” Stiles says once he gets a hand around himself, “can I just say, I cannot wait to have actual, weird, athletic sex with you because—goddamn—‘cause this right now is awesome so I can’t even imagine dude.”

Derek smiles, “I think you  were doing some decent imagining before, something about me riding you? Letting you lay there while I fuck myself on you?”

“I hate you… so much—oh God.” Stiles groans, humping up into fist in earnest. “You fucking asshole, Jesus Chr—” Stiles gets cut off by his own orgasm, breath stuttering out of him as he comes, hitting his own chest.

“Didn’t think that one through,” Stiles says one he’s got his breath back, looking down at the come soaking into his t-shirt. He pulls it off and chucks it in the general direction of Derek’s hamper. He pulls his pants back up, but doesn’t bother fastening them. He climbs out of bed and Derek has a brief moment where he thinks Stiles is leaving but realizes he’s just turning out the light.

“We’re gonna cuddle now, because I’m tired and your skin is soft. I just went down on you so I get to be the big spoon.” He crawls back into bed and Derek thinks about complaining about Stiles still having his jeans on, but Stiles has his long arms wrapped around him and he’s is too worn out to really care at this point.

He falls asleep to Stiles drowsily waxing poetic about his dick.


End file.
